Trucker Blues

© 1999 Thomas Fattorusso
All rights reserved.

Matt pulled up to her in the darkness and turned on the hazards. They were a good mile from town, and anyone this far out would be moving at warp speed by this point (kind of like he had been), and he didn't need to be rear ended now. No, thank you. There were still four days of riding to do, and he only had three days to do it in. And if he was late, it was going to cost him five percent of his take for the entire cargo run.

The girl trotted around to his side and looked up at him, her neck craned back to see him. Matt dropped his window down. The air had cooled off a little, but it was still sticky out, and the humidity crept into his cab like an unwelcome visitor, bringing sweat to his brow.

"Hi there, stranger," she said, smiling. The moon was on his side tonight. It shed enough light through the sky to give him a decent look at her. Enough to know it was his lucky night.

"Hello, yourself." He tipped an imaginary hat to her.

"I'm heading west; you got room for me in there?" She was carrying a brown sack slung over one of her tanned shoulders. Probably on her way to Hollywood to be famous, Matt thought. People wouldn't believe how common it was for a trucker to come across a young babe in the middle of nowhere. They all thought hitchhikers were greasy men with acne and butcher knives. The reality was that most were teen runaways looking for their break, without enough money to buy toilet paper to wipe their own ass. Let alone the dough to hop on a plane to travel across the country.

The smile on his face must have answered her question, because she ran around to the passenger side of the truck. Matt hit the automatic locks and leaned over to grab his map off the passenger seat and throw it under his own. The interior light of the cab kicked on, and as she slid in next to him, Matt was able to take a better look at her. He didn't stare too long, not wanting to be rude. He was still able to get in an eyeful, and he liked what he saw. He quickly hit the locks and pulled away from the roadside, turning the hazards back off.

They began to roll.

"My momma told me not to pick up hitchhikers—especially at night." He said this only half kidding.

"I'm not a hitchhiker. I like to think of myself more like a traveler, without the transportation, you know? And you look old enough to make your own decisions anyway."

She was right. But he didn't tell her that, at twenty-nine, he still called his mom every day. If he got the chance, that was.

"I feel the need to ask you something," Matt said, a little nervously.

"Bernadette," she said, and laughed. She had long curly brown hair, and her laughter sounded like butter melting over pancakes.

"I'm Matt, pleased to meet you. But I was going to ask why you didn't hitch a ride back at Danville, instead of way out here?" He pointed from the direction in which they had come. It was a hole in the wall of a town, to be sure, but the food in the one diner Matt had tried was decent. Then again, it was probably the only diner.

"Oh, well, let's just say some guy gave me some trouble and I thought it was in my best interest to be on my way, you know?" She laughed again and from the corner of his eye he saw her breasts jiggle a little. He also saw that her nipples were poking through her neon-colored tank top like two buttons. And if it wasn't for that shirt, I probably would have zipped right past you, he thought.

At night in these parts, it didn't just get dark, it got black. But she had stuck out better than any sore thumb ever could.

"Anyway, I got tired of waiting around for my knight in shining armor, you know? Felt like stretching my legs a little, too. Figured I would get lucky sooner or later."

"Fair enough."

She then proceeded to stretch out those legs in Matt's ample cab. She was wearing cut-off blue jeans and Matt guessed those legs got plenty of exercise from all that walking.

The deep tan doesn't hurt matters, either, Matt thought. It looked painted on; the sweat glistened off of her body in little golden droplets.

"So, where you headed?" she asked, still smiling.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Matt was smiling now, too. Her grin was contagious.

Bernadette leaned back against her seat. She sighed deeply. Matt thought that in spite of her nonchalance, she was probably hungry, dog-tired, and broke.

"I'll ride as far as you'll have me. I'm on my way to California. I've got some friends there. They said they can maybe get me a modeling job, there's so much work right now, you know?"

Matt thought she was definitely of legal age, but not by much. He also thought that the best she could hope for was probably some quick porn work and that her friends were either full of shit or worse. She was too short and her eyes, though a pretty shade of blue, were just too big for her head. She seemed to have a constant expression of surprise on her face because of them.

"What do Mom and Dad think of your traveling plans?"

Matt popped open the cooler between them and offered her a soda while he waited for a response. She accepted the can from him, opened it up, and took a huge gulp.

"Screw them. I make my own decisions." She burped loudly, lending an exclamation point to her statement.

Matt laughed.

"I see," he said, and said no more for a while.

Matt kept quiet and drove, his thoughts lingering on his passenger. He didn't want to be too forward. Usually, on long rides, they tended to open up to him anyway. He was like a traveling psychiatrist. Instead of a leather couch, he had an eighteen-wheeler.

She finished her soda and set the can carefully back down into the cooler, which Matt liked. He figured her for the crunch the can (and litter his cab) type and was glad to be wrong.

The semi continued to slice threw the encroaching darkness like a blade, the headlights gazing upon nothing but black asphalt and the occasional scampering animal.

There was no one else on the road but them.

He wasn't heading all the way to California but hoped he could enjoy her company at least until close to daybreak. His drop-off was in Utah. Then it was time to head back until his next great adventure popped up. Some clouds had slipped out into view, tip-toeing quietly across the face of the moon, and Matt thought rain might be on the menu, after all, for tonight.

The air outside had already been muggy, so Matt kept the windows rolled up and the interior of the cab to his liking, which was very cold. After a while Bernadette began to shiver and hug herself. She hit the automatic window button to lower it.

Nothing happened.

She looked at Matt, raising her eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry." He tapped the console, allowing her to roll the window down.

"I love being outdoors. Everything else seems so—so artificial, you know?"

Matt nodded his head. He hated the outdoors, but agreed with her anyway. He would probably agree with her if she said she liked to jump into lakes of fire for kicks on the weekend, if that's what turned her on.

The night air attacked the inside of the cab and Matt shut off the cooling. It was a losing battle with the open window and all he was doing was wasting gas. Bernadette stuck her head and shoulders out the window and, for a minute, Matt thought she was going to jump.

"Take it easy, Bernie; I don't want you falling out on me, now!"

She leaned back in and looked at him, closely, this time. He was six-two and handsome, his dark features were mysterious, but his smile was easy and took the danger out of them. It wouldn't surprise him a bit to learn that she wanted a companion for a night, or two, on her way to stardom.

"I like how you call me Bernie. Only my good friends call me that, you know?"

Matt did not know. However, he knew that if she said 'you know' one more time, it was going to piss him off greatly.

"Maybe we'll turn out to be good friends, then," he pondered aloud.

She turned toward Matt in her seat. Her small waist grew even smaller, which made her chest look that much bigger.

"Where do you sleep? You get a motel for the night or do you crash in the back?"

Matt glanced at his watch. It glowed the numbers 2:45 and that told him it was pretty much now or never.

"I sleep in the back. I have a big space back there, actually. I was thinking of pulling over soon and relaxing for a bit, to tell you the truth."

"Sounds like a plan, you know?"

"I know."

Matt downshifted and pulled over to the side of the road. He left his hazards off this time, and turned the engine off, putting them in the dark. Bernadette said, "Wow, I can't see my hand in front of my face!"

Matt clicked on the interior light and it glowed in the humid air like a candle.

"Voila! Let there be light," he said, magically.

She looked at him and her look said she was very interested in whatever other magic he might have up his sleeve.

Matt could smell her and she smelled musky. The light perfume she was wearing mixing with her sweat to create a unique fragrance all her own that was quite intoxicating.

He smiled and took out his map to check where they were. It was maybe a hundred miles or so from the next rest stop.

Close enough, he thought.

"Okay, Bernie. This is going to be simple. I'm going to count to one hundred. When I'm finished, I'm going to hunt you down, rape you, and then cut you up into little pieces. If you're real quiet, maybe you can get away." Matt pointed straight ahead. "The nearest rest stop is about ten miles up the road, in that direction. I'll allow you only one question, so make it a good one."

Matt leaned back in his chair, glad that his little speech was over. He waited.

She looked at him for a long moment. Bernie seemed to pray that he was kidding and a hopeful smile peeked from behind her mouth, afraid to come out completely. Then she saw his cold shark eyes and realization hit her in the face, draining the color out of it. Her smile fell away.

Matt's smile stayed on his face. In fact, it grew larger.

He thought for a moment that she might puke. Hopefully, it would just be the dry heaves. Matt thought the soda she had downed before was probably the only real meal she had eaten it a day or two, at least.

"Well, last chance," he said.

Bernadette began to cry. They were big, fat, baby tears, like a little girl who had lost her favorite doll.

Matt began to get hard.

She pleaded, "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I'm bored, and this will be fun. You are now officially out of questions, Bernie. One. Two. Three—"

Matt continued to count, staring at her. Frozen in her seat, she stared back, transfixed, like a deer caught in the headlights. Her natural, wide-eyed expression now fit the mood perfectly, and Matt could hardly contain his giggles. Tears continued to trail down her face, but she had grown silent.

He stopped at fifteen and said, "Listen up, Bernie. If you wait until I'm finished counting, I'm going to drag you into the back and torture you before I rape and kill you."

Sometimes they never left the cab and that was no fun, so he now had put in that little disclaimer at fifteen. It usually worked.

It did the trick this time, as well, and she went for the door. Matt hit the lock button so she could get out and Bernadette began running, like a banshee, into the night.

The darkness quickly enveloped her like a shroud.

Matt thought about how short her legs were (but very pretty!) and he could already tell this was not going to take long at all.

At around fifty, he grabbed the night-vision goggles out from behind his seat, along with the roll of duct tape.

Matt got out of the car and stretched his big body, cracking it in a few places. If everything worked out, he would bury her and still have two hours before sunup for driving. He would probably stop and sleep the rest of the day away; while the sun burned at its brightest and traffic was at its worst.

He put on the goggles and spotted her straight away, maybe two hundred yards into the field. She was hiding behind a rock, and not too well at that. Matt started toward her, whistling quietly under his breath.

Sometime later, when he was back in his cab, Matt felt tired but invigorated. A light rain started to fall, but even that could not dampen his good spirit. Matt started up the rig and turned on the wipers. He paused to check the map again and verify his location. Content with his position, he put it back on the passenger seat and turned on the air. The interior began to cool off almost immediately.

He pulled out onto the road.

This had been a good one, and he thought it might even last him for the ride back. His mind would slowly trace itself over every whimper, every inch of her skin, and keep him occupied for hours and hours.

Sweet Bernadette.

Maybe next time I'll film it, he considered. That way he could revisit one of his dates any time he pleased.

Now there was an idea worth keeping.

Twenty minutes later, Matt noticed the police lights flashing in his mirror and dutifully pulled over and threw his hazards on. He was wearing his seat belt, which was good, but he quickly checked to make sure there was nothing out of the ordinary and, of course, there was not.

He was always very thorough.

The cab was clean as a whistle. He had checked over every inch of his body for any scratches or bits of blood.

There had been no souvenirs this time out.

The trooper slowly made his way up to the cab.

"Good evening, sir."

"Good evening to you, officer. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, sir. Step out of the cab, please."

"Would you like to see my license and registration?"

The trooper's face was indifferent, revealing nothing.

"Just step out please, sir."

Matt did not argue. At least it had stopped raining. He probably wants to check the cargo hold, maybe even do a breath test, he thought. That was okay; the last drink he had was hours ago, and it had only been one stale beer, at that.

He dropped out of the truck and stood before the trooper. In the moonlight, the cop looked like a giant, even compared to Matt's own huge frame.

"Do you know why I pulled you over this evening, sir?"

Matt thought, yeah, because you found old Bernadette lying in a ditch, with her head cut off.

He smiled his best, most disarming grin at the trooper. Matt even leaned against his truck to prove he did not have a care in the world.

"No, officer, I'm afraid I don't."

Daylight was still an hour away and Matt could hear a coyote, somewhere in the distance, howl.

The trooper, uniform bulging around his arms, smiled back, the indifferent mask he had been wearing finally cracking.

Except there was nothing nice about his smile at all.

He put his hand on the butt of his pistol, unlatched the holster.

"Let's just say I'm bored tonight."

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